[Sample (Melody): The Mystic Moods Orchestra - “Something”]
[Intro: Kong]
One, two, one, two. Kongcrete, the most hideous. Check it, check it, check it
[Verse 1: Kong]
Smoking
Hash, leave an open ass broken, stash floating fast
Lifted. Kong with the broken glass
Slurper, a nasty nigga fuck Bertha
Insert it further than murder, pulled out then squirt her
Alpha murder, alpha murder, murder
Alpha murder, pull the squeeze then hurt her
Out for cheddar, piece of cheese, when in doubt, love
Took Alicia’s Keys in and out love, ate nine
Hate all, hate on fakes, cornballs is fake
Find your body at your dawg’s wake, barking
Create comment when I start to spit, y’all
Niggas spit conformant, Kong bombing
[Verse 2: Megalon]
Study every religion there is, rhythm for kids deadly as venom is
This hemorrhage friends of his
I’m like a guinea pig with a skinny snitch
And me big like a penny rich—hear me, bitch—ready to let the semi spit
Here he is. Is he really sick or is he really picked to see
The vict’ or is he really dead for what he did? Let the machete
Rip, spaghetti drip. Ready, get set, ready
Go, ready to rock machete flow to let you know we’re ready to go
Is he heavy? Is he petty? I was
Hungry, so they fed me, yo. For heavy dough, I need
Some heavy dro. Megalon in your stereo
Ready to shoot the heady, yo. Yo!
[Verse 3: Rodan]
Lyrics of death wrap—this how the letter bond, yo, Megalon
Pass that Megatron, gods on a hunt like a Predacon
Smoking cedar wood trees from Lebanon. Fascist sprites on MTV
Terrorist threats looped on my MPC
Travel at a hundred eighty-six thousand kilobytes per second
Downloaded on the MP3
1995 Long Island, iced-out in an MVB
Monsta Island escaped from MCC
[Verse 4: Kong]
By any means, many fiends akin to toast teens
Toast the scenes for the hoes to scream
Mostly seen by the avoiding get down here when Luciani ‘hind me
Behind Pataki, busting shots with Giuliani
Bust back I’ll squeeze rapping niggas—y’all, quit acting like it could happen
My MAC-10 made big niggas backspin—what happened?
[Verse 5: Megalon]
Is that so? Tommy Brasco stack dough, you lack flow
My abstract flow for cashflow turn cocaine to crack and turn crack to blow
Now the fuck that go? I wanna fuck that ho
The white ho and the black ho lay on your back, ho
They made the track slow so I could rap slow
Tommy mack hoes, yo, yo
My gun is like my girl ‘cause I don’t wanna let my gat go
I sold crack fast, now I sell crack slow
In the back, on the low. If you ain’t got no dough
Come to the back door. I’ll give you a full pack at four
Rock rap shows, L be on the map when I blow
R&B rap takes it in the ass-crack slow
At my last show, I snatched gold, Black Jesus
It’s a Black Christmas—now picture black snow
[Verse 6: Rodan]
Ayo, we calculate the sands of time in slow-mo
Manipulating every moment through space, metabolize the seeds of wealth to let the dough flow
Committing acts of violence and hate crimes against the po-po
Double-barreled, handheld bazooka for Sergeant Shitface if you want to start fronting like you Robo
Blaze that bush, whether your Mary
Jane is def or even if it’s so-so. Teasing bitches with ice cubes on their nipple, keep them playing with their yo-yo
Athletic pussy like Lisa Leslie and Rebecca Lobo
Rock the show from uptown, downtown to Tribeca, Soho
Most of these rappers R&B singers like K-Ci & JoJo
Better off harmonizing with Taj, Leigh Leigh and Coco
Thespian thugs, niggas is all mouth like the Rolling Stones logo
Bianca Jagger, fee-jacker, jacking me off in a go-go
Stuff down their throats, spitting completely bobo
Keeping it groovy without the synthetic fucking mojo
Got the spot kicking like a donkey locked up inside a dojo
Smack Ralph Lauren, got Tommy Hilfiger picking cotton, rocking Polo
[Bridge: Megalon]
Is that so?
[Verse 7: Kong]
Niggas stay lifted
Bring the biscuit, bring the bitches, bring the motherfucking statistics
Bring the death certificates
Um, don’t forget the four blocks—peace to Fort
Knox, where the four stops
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